Deception (17 page)

The sound of a
rapid hammering from the basement wakes me. The sun is beginning to go down, which means I slept for most of the day. It could be a kind gesture from Billy, or it could just be that he was distracted. Either way, I’ll take it. I do my best to slide off the bed quietly so I don’t wake Alicia, who is still sleeping in the bed. The floor squeaks as I tiptoe into the hallway.

The basement door is cracked open and I can see the light on downstairs. The hammering grows louder as I make my way down the steps. I hold onto the railing as I try to wake myself completely. In the middle of the floor is my toolbox, which Billy must have found in the closet in the hallway upstairs. Billy is on his knees with his back to me and his arms are busy, although I can’t tell what he’s doing from my angle. He doesn’t hear me come down the stairs, so I walk slowly and try not to make any noises that may startle him, as I don’t know where his gun is. I stop when I reach him. I’m sure he senses me next to him, but he doesn’t look up from his work.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

He has one of the tiles that is directly in the center of the floor nearly displaced from its original position. The grout is chipped away and scattered across the adjacent tiles. He has the bag of cash next to him and he uses a small chisel and hammer to try to separate the ceramic tile from the adhesive that keeps it suctioned to the subfloor. A bowl full of water and a wooden spoon rest a few feet away. He stops what he’s doing and drops everything. He looks up at me from his knees.

“I think I’ve figured out a way out of this,” he says.

I nod, not really believing him. “What are you doing to the floor?”

“We need a place to hide the money temporarily, and they won’t even think to look in the floor. No one ever hides anything in the floor. The ceiling, yes. But not the floor.”

It does cross my mind that Snake had hidden the money in the ground, so someone has thought of it before, but I figure it’s best not to disagree.

Billy grabs the tools again and continues working his way around the tile as he does his best not to crack it. I stand in silence and watch the process for a few minutes until the tile successfully pops off, exposing the subfloor.

“Will you hand me that?” Billy asks.

I grab the shovel that leans against the wall across the room and hand it to him, now standing. “What are you going to do with that?”

“Stand back.”

Billy straddles the exposed floor and raises the shovel above his head. He thrusts his arms toward the ground and jams the tip of the metal shovel into the wood. The tiles on the floor are good size, nine square feet each, so his target area is wide. He pulls the shovel back over his head and repeats. The rapid speed and downward force splits the wood quickly.

The ground beneath is dry and cool, but it doesn’t take Billy much effort to break through it with the shovel. I hold a black industrial trash bag open while he piles the dirt inside as he digs. The bag is almost torn out of my hands by the weight of the dirt with every toss. He makes the hole in the earth shallow enough so the bag is still visible once dropped in, but deep enough so that the tile can lay back flat on top.

When the bag is full and beginning to tear, I drag it across floor and leave it under the stairs. Billy walks to the corner of the room where a half-empty bag of grout rests from when the original floor installation happened. I hadn’t even looked at it since I bought the house a few years ago. He drops in on the floor next to the hole.

“I saw this sitting over there, so I figured what the hell,” Billy says.

He lifts the bag and pours a handful of the powder into the bowl of water. He uses the wooden spoon to mix it up while reading the directions on the bag. I just now realize he’s using the bowl that my grandmother had handed down to me from her grandmother before she died. It’s been in the family for over a hundred years. Of course that’s the one he chose.

When the concoction in the antique bowl thickens, Billy uses the wooden spoon to rub material into the gaps around the tile.

“How are we going to remember which tile it is?” I ask.

Billy stops what he’s doing and knocks on the tile with his knuckle. An empty echo sounds from beneath the tile. “It’s hollow, but they won’t be able to tell by just walking over it. They wouldn’t know unless they were looking for it specifically, which they won’t be.”

“You keep saying ‘they’. Who are they?”

“I don’t know for sure who they are, but I know they’re Snake’s men. They’re members of the Zved’s.”

“How do you know that?”

“I caught a glimpse of their faces when they were shooting at us. I recognized them, I think, but I can’t place their names right now.”

“How many are there?”

“Two, but the longer this goes on the more guys will be on our trail.”

“When will it end?”

Billy pauses for a moment before responding, “Never. Not until we’re dead.”

I gulp. “What if we kill them first?”

Billy shakes his head. “Doesn’t matter, they’ll just send more guys until they find us and kill us.”

“What do we do then?”

“There is only one thing to do. We get the money and we hide. Somewhere away from here, somewhere we can disappear.”

“And that’s why you and Frank were going to go to Mexico?” Billy nods.

Suddenly, I have a realization. “What about me?”

Billy shrugs.

“That’s why you were going to let me go,” I continue. “You knew that they’d find me and come after me. They’d kill me so you didn’t have to. You’d get away with the money and you wouldn’t have to worry about me going to the police.”

Billy starts to spread the grout with the wooden spoon again, but he doesn’t react otherwise. He meticulously fills in the remaining gap near the corner of the tile then tosses the spoon to the side. He stands up and meets my eyes.

“What about Alicia and the baby? Were you going to just let them get killed by these guys too? You’re a real son of a bitch,” I say.

Billy’s mouth starts to widen into a smile, and then he begins to laugh. His chuckles gradually increase in intensity, and I’m taken aback a bit as he howls with hilarity.

“What’s so funny?”

Billy, now leaning forward and resting his hands on his knees to keep himself from falling over, spreads his arms wide. “Take a look around you,” he says. “Do you not see what’s going on here?”

I fight the urge to physically look around me as I can see it’s not meant to be taken literally. “Answer my question.”

Billy’s laughs settle and he wipes the tears from his eyes. “What question?”

“Were you just going to let Alicia and my unborn baby be killed too?”

He shakes his head. “You really don’t know what’s going on here, do you?”

“What are you talking about?”

“She’s not pregnant. And she’s with me.”

I take this in for a moment, but begin shaking my head almost immediately. “No, that’s not true. I don’t believe you. We have a real connection.”

Billy starts to laugh again. “Connection? Is that what you call a connection? Do you actually think she’s pregnant? She’s not.”

“I don’t believe you.”

Billy points in the direction of the stairs without looking. “Go ask her yourself.”

Without hesitation, I turn around and storm up the basement stairs. I don’t want to believe Billy, but my heart already aches. I need to hear it straight from the horse’s mouth. Once upstairs, I hurry down the hallway and whip the bedroom door open. Alicia is sitting on the edge of the bed as I enter.

“There you are,” she says. “Listen, I’ve been thinking about it the whole night, and I could barely sleep. There is something I need to tell you.”

“Are you really pregnant?”

She’s surprised by my question and my sternness. “George-”

“Don’t lie to me. Please. Are you pregnant?”

Alicia puts her head down and takes a deep breath. I can see the tears pool in her eyes, and it gives me the answer that I already know in my heart. I ask again before she has a chance to speak.

“Tell me the truth. Billy just told me everything.”

She lifts her head up and looks at me, both eyes now completely filled with tears. “George, I’m so sorry. It was never supposed to-”

“How could you? I thought we had a real connection?”

She jumps to her feet and walks toward me. “We did have a real connection. We still do.”

“What about Billy? He said you’re with him.”

“That was before.”

“So that is true?”

She reaches for my hand with compassion, but I pull away. She sinks her glassy eyes into mine and I can’t tell if she’s being sincere or not. I don’t know what to believe anymore. She reaches for my hand again. This time I let her take it.

“He doesn’t really care about you, you know,” I say. “He would leave you to die in a second, just like he was going to do to me.”

Footsteps from the hallway are approaching. I must have been too distracted by Alicia’s gaze to have heard Billy coming up the stairs. He pops his head in and sees Alicia caressing my trembling hand.

“You can stop the act now,” he says. “I told him everything.” He begins to laugh again as he disappears down the hallway. The laughing is really starting to piss me off.

“Ignore him, Alicia says, “I have a plan.”

I rip my hand from her grasp. “You have a plan? I’m tired of following everyone else’s plan. Where has that got me? Dead, that’s where. It’s about time I make my own fucking plan.” I spin around and rush toward the door.

Alicia reaches for me, but I ignore her and leave through the doorway and head down the hallway. I brush past the open bathroom door and catch a glimpse of Billy leaning his head back and taking a leak. I rush into the kitchen and pull open the cabinet drawer that’s directly to the right of the dishwasher. I yank the entire cabinet off its track and watch as the contents go crashing down onto the linoleum floor. I bend down and grab the longest and sharpest butcher’s knife I can find and make my way in to the living room. Billy and Alicia arrive in the opening just moments after I do.

“What the hell is going on in here?” Billy says, still zipping his pants.

I stop once I get to the couch that Frank is still passed out on and stand over him, holding the knife above my head. Alicia’s eyes widen in shock and she gasps. Billy is suddenly calm.

“Who’s laughing now?” I say.

“What are you doing?” Billy asks calmly.

“I’m turning the tables in my favor. It’s about time I have some leverage.”

“There’s no need to do anything stupid now.”

“Stupid? You don’t want me to do anything stupid? You said it yourself, I’m too stupid to see what’s going on around me, so I must be stupid! Just another stupid person doing a stupid thing!” I look down at Frank’s already bruised and battered body and I feel nothing.

“Let’s talk about this,” Billy pleads.

I look up and stare at Billy. “I think we’re past that point, wouldn’t you say?”

“Nobody has to get hurt.”

“Funny how things change when the shoe is on the other foot, isn’t it?” I look back down at Frank and raise the knife further above my head. I catch Billy feeling for his gun, but I can see it resting on the table beside me. My arm is quivering as I struggle to steady the blade. I take one final glance across the room and see Alicia covering her face in fear, much like she was in the van. I don’t trust her anymore, but I can’t stand to see her like this. I lean my head down and drop the knife to the floor.

I can’t do it.

It’s a chilly summer
night, which really isn’t even chilly at all, and Snake’s house is lifeless. I carry a black duffel bag which contains the three carbon monoxide masks, a crowbar, a rubber mallet, a thin steel rod, and two glass vials. I stand on my toes on the side of the house and peek inside the window. I use my hands to cup my eyes to try to help myself see through the darkness. There is evidence of some recent activity inside, as I’m able to faintly make out some figures on the kitchen counter, dishes perhaps, which were not there earlier. I drop to my feet and continue around the backside of the house and along to the western side, and I look in each of the windows like I did in the first.

I can hear Frank screwing around in the front as I make my way back toward him and George, and I scold him for that. After a brief confrontation, I drop the duffle bag to the ground and start pulling out the goods. I hand a mask each to George and Frank, then I strap mine around my face. I pull the straps tight and secure the ventilation filter over my nose and mouth. I slip the two vials into my pocket and hand the mallet and steel bar to George before standing and approaching the front door.

After a few unsuccessful attempts to pry the front door open by wedging the crowbar into the frame and knocking on it with the rubber mallet, I give Frank a subtle nod. I step back and suggest for George to do the same, and admire the damage as Frank throws his giant frame through the front door. Frank grunts on the floor inside the house with the door lying beneath him. I walk over to him and whisper in his ear.

“Nice job, Frank. You did good.” I pat him on his head as I make my way into the house. I find the light embedded into the drywall near the door and flick on the lights. The living room fills with light and illuminates around Snake’s lifeless body as it lays face first on the carpeted hallway.

I breathe slowly through my mask to ensure the filter is engaged properly, then I approach the body. My heart starts to race, and I hope the plan has worked. It looks like it has. To confirm, I crouch down next to Snake and reach for a pulse on his neck with two fingers. I feel around in multiple spots on his neck before finding a dull pulsation just below his cheekbone. Truthfully, I’m a little bit disappointed, but I try not to show it. I turn to Frank and George, both of whom are gazing at what they think is a dead body from across the room.

“Well, he’s not dead yet, but he’s barely alive,” I say.

“You want me to take care of him?” Frank asks.

I pause for a moment, as I’m not quite sure of our next move yet. I had fully expected Snake would be dead from the exposure already. Considering how his body is in the hallway and the house was completely dark, I’m able to hypothesize what happened: Shortly after Snake got back home, he began to feel the effects of carbon monoxide poisoning. It started with a minor headache that gradually worsened and progressed into symptoms of nausea and dizziness. I figure he was getting ready for bed early and passed out on his way to the bathroom. Either that, or he didn’t even make it halfway down the hall before succumbing to the toxicity shortly after his arrival back home. If the poison was strong enough to knock him unconscious so quickly, it should have been strong enough to kill him already too. Plus, that doesn’t explain the total darkness. Who comes home and the leaves the lights off?

I’m sticking with scenario one.

“No, not yet. I’ll tell you when,” I say, then I walk over Snake’s torso and into the bedroom. Knowing exactly what I’m looking for, I cross the room and lift the painting from the wall. I didn’t get a long look at it before, so seeing the size of the safe takes me off guard. It’s a lot smaller than I had expected, and concerns about it actually containing the cash do cross my mind. Putting those thoughts aside, I leave the room and head outside.

My police issued flashlight leads the way out the busted front door and around to the side of the house. A few stars above my head try their best to help too. I knock on the glass of the lone window in the bedroom with the butt of the flashlight, and George responds by slowly knocking the steel bar on the front of the safe. I put my ear on the vinyl siding and listen for the ping. I slide to where I estimate the safe is on the wall, and when I hear the tinny ping, I tap on the wall.

I rest the flashlight on the windowsill and aim it in the direction of my target. The angle isn’t perfect, but I’m not looking for a clean disassembly, so it’s plenty good enough. I remove the crowbar from the duffel bag and aggressively jam it into the vinyl. It’s not particularly difficult to remove vinyl siding, as it’s flexible and tends to crack easily, so my progress is quick. It’s not long before George joins me outside, and most of the siding is already removed from the area I need by the time he does.

The wooden studs are more difficult to chisel away, although the teeth of the crowbar do grab large chunks when enough force is applied. It only takes me a few good swings to chip away enough of the surrounding studs to gain access to the back of the safe. I recognize the brand as a common one from the stamp on the bottom left corner, and it’s a good one. Most safes are protected from fire, and this is one is no different. No safe is protected from the heat that ignited thermite gives off though.

Using the thermite from one of the glass vials, I carefully rub the powder along the edges of the safe, directly over the welds. I avoid putting any powder on the back of the safe itself, as the last thing I want to do is put the contents it contains at risk. If the powder burns through the center of the safe, it may just melt the entire thing, including the cash.  

After warning George to step back, I remove safety gloves from my back pocket and put them on for protection. The heat this thing is going to give off might singe my hand right off if I’m not careful. I remove the magnesium strip from the second vial and crouch down so that my face isn’t in the area when the contact occurs. I hold the metallic strip above my head and slowly move it toward the powder. I do my best to steady my hand, but I’m unable to stop it from shaking completely. Perspiration is beginning to bead on my forehead, so I rub it away with my left shoulder. I push the magnesium against the powder, and they immediately spark upon contact. I drop the magnesium when I hear the concoction engulf and run to where George is standing some feet away. We stand in silence and admire the scene as the rear of the safe slowly melts away.

Having heard the commotion, Frank joins us, and it only takes a few minutes until the rear of the safe has completely caved in on itself and only thin shards of steel remain in clumps. Using the rubber mallet, I knock on the sharp edges of the shards of steel that remain until I’m able to slide my arm inside without cutting myself.

The safe is not very deep, and I’m able touch the back of the hinged door in the front with my fingertip before I get to my elbow. I bend my wrist down the hole and feel around until I make contact with a solid object. As I finger the edges, I can tell it’s not a stack of bills, and the disappointment sets in. I grab the object and pull it out of the hole, and I’m careful not to make any contact with the still scorching edges of the safe.

A brass key and a note with seven digits written on it are all that the box contains, and I’m pissed. I thought that this was it and that Alicia and I would be sailing to freedom in a matter of days. As the three of us stare at the box and its contents, it’s obvious now that this is going to involve a whole lot more than I was planning for. I’m going to be forced to utilize the people around me, and I can feel everything starting to slip through my fingers. My control of the situation is slowly dissipating, and I’m getting anxious just thinking about it.

Not knowing what else to do or where to go from here, I go back into the house and tear it up. I know there’s no other place in the house that a second safe could be hidden, and I know Snake wouldn’t keep the key to the thing in the same building if there was, so I’m at a loss. This key could go to anything and cracking the code to the safe is going to be like trying to find a needle in a haystack.

I flip over furniture in a rage and throw the mallet through the drywall before leaving, but not before telling Frank to get rid of Snake’s body. How he makes sure he’s dead and what he does with the body is up to him, I just never want to see him alive again.

On the bright side, at least Snake is out of the picture now, so part of the plot for revenge has been achieved. Not so encouraging is that we have no way of tracking where he’s storing the cash now, and we’re completely on our own to figure it out. I could keep him alive and try to beat it out of him, I suppose. Maybe the satisfaction of seeing him suffer, much like I have experienced since he took my father from me, would make the end result even sweeter. I consider telling Frank to forget it and to toss Snake in the van instead, but I hear a loud thump as I start to turn around.

So much for that.

I hope I won’t regret this.